


Normal

by phantomphantasmagoria



Series: OTP Prompts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomphantasmagoria/pseuds/phantomphantasmagoria
Summary: Inspired by the prompt: Imagine your OTP going to an art museum. Person A doesn’t enjoy art but is going for Person B. Person B gets a little annoyed that Person A isn’t paying attention to the art on the walls. Person B confronts A about it with something like “Will you stop staring at me and enjoy the artwork?” And Person A goes like “I am.” And smirks, then continues admiring B.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Reviews are totally welcomed and encouraged!

She tried to be normal once. Worst two minutes of her life. 

But now she was standing here, arm in arm with someone who she couldn’t seem to stop glancing over at. She was enjoying a fancy art showing and everyone there had blissfully normal lives, not knowing that hers was nothing of the sort.

Yet there she was.

She could feel Clint’s gaze on her as she admired the art. She knew he normally wouldn’t come to these kinds of things. They would usually be camped out on the couch, watching reruns of Supernatural or Castle. Or, rather,  _Clint_ would be watching reruns, and Tasha would read with her feet propped up in his lap. They weren't at fancy art showings. 

She knew he was here for her. Because when she told him that she had liked art, he had listened. He always listened. Somehow he had managed to bribe Tony into getting them invitations to this very private and very formal art showing, because she had told him that art was her escape. 

Natasha wasn’t used to being put first. She wasn’t used to people  _ doing things _ for her. She wasn’t used to this. 

Which was why she was pleasantly surprised when she found Clint standing in her doorway two nights ago, watching her cook. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when she looked at him.

“What?” She had asked suspiciously, knowing that he had something up his sleeve. They had been partners for years. Of course she knew. 

He shrugged against the doorframe. “Nothing.”

She narrowed her gaze, flipping her midnight snack - pancakes - on the stove. “What is it?” she pressed. 

“Why does there always have to be something? Can’t i just watch you cook?” His voice sounded annoyed, but she could see him holding back a smile.

“But there is something,” she stated, arms crossed over her pajamas. 

“Okay, fine,” He admitted, pushing off the wall to come and stand closer to her. “There’s something.” He wasn’t even trying to hide his smile anymore.

“I knew it,” she smiled, lightly slapping his arm. She went over to the fridge and swung it open, looking for the whipped cream. “So?” she prompted.

“Sooo, i got us invites to this thing.”

She paused, fingers hovering over the can. “What kind of thing?” she asked casually, grabbing the cream and strawberries and pulling them out of the fridge. She turned around and Clint was leaning against the bar now, hands in his pockets, looking kind of nervous.

“A fancy kind of thing,” he said hesitantly. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He paused and Natasha waited, poking her pancakes with the spatula. 

“I mean, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but i saw this thing online about this art showing by some French artist downtown and Tony caught me and said he could get us tickets, and I’m realizing now that maybe it wasn’t the best idea considering that i probably should have asked you first, but i remembered you saying that you liked art, so i was thinking -”

“Clint,” she interrupted, a smiled tugging at her lips. “That was really nice of you.”

He stopped for a breath. “Really?”

“Yes. I definitely think we should go.” She pulled her into her arms and he grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then they had eaten pancakes in her kitchen at three in the morning, an intimate moment that Natasha had tucked away into her memories for safekeeping. Into that little place reserved especially for moments with Clint. 

Which was where this night was going to go when it was over.

But for now…

“Your bowtie is crooked.”

Clint glanced down and made a skeptical face. “Really? It looks fine to me.”

“Well it’s not,” Natasha said. “Here.” She stopped them and reached up to fix Clint’s bowtie, which wasn’t really all that crooked, but just enough that it was starting to drive Natasha just slightly insane. 

When she was done, she took his lapels and pulled him down for a soft kiss. “Better,” She said with a smile when she pulled away. 

Clint grinned. “Did i tell you yet that you look amazing tonight?”

Natasha giggled, taking the arm he offered and following his towards the next piece of art. “No, i don’t think you did.”

“Well, you look amazing tonight.” He was referring the dress she had recently gotten as a birthday gift from Pepper. It was black and lacy and had a slit cut in it to her thigh, showing off her legs. She had topped it off with a diamond choker that she usually reserved for missions that required seducing a target, but had figured that tonight was a special occasion. Her hair had been pinned back to stay out of her face, which was painted with a masterpiece of makeup that was Clint’s own doing. He had always been better at it than she was, somehow. 

She blushed and looked down. “Thank you,” she smiled. Usually she was a smooth-talking, dignified woman, but with Clint all  bets were off. She was glad that this time she wasn’t a stuttering mess. 

They walked around for a few more minutes before Natasha noticed that Clint wasn’t really paying attention to the art. At all. He just kept staring at  _ her _ . 

And she was used to this kind of attention Usually when she walked into a room, at least some people stopped to stare, but with Clint it was like being held under a fucking spotlight. 

Finally she got fed up and said, “Will you stop staring at me and enjoy the artwork?” She expected some smartass comment in return. That was his signature reply.

But what she got instead was, “I am,” and a smirk.

She sighed and kept walking. Clint kept staring at her. He was such an idiot sometimes, but she forgave him because she loved him. 

This was the new normal, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted it to change. 

 


End file.
